Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Confessions 1 | Mystery Man
Chapter 1 – No Place For Pioneers
I’m an exotic dancer. Customers call me Victoria. Friends call me Vicky. And if you’re reading this, you must be a friend. I work in a well-known gentlemen’s club called Private Dancer in Portland, Oregon. But honestly, deep down, I’m haunted by a past that won’t let me go. Like the wise man says—I’ve been around. I lived a while in Angeles City in the Philippines. I was a bar girl at the Butterfly Problem, the most infamous casa bar in Balibago District, the brothel area, but that’s a different story. And once not too long ago, I caught a serial killer. Yes, that’s right. I’m also an amateur sleuth, a Jill-of-all-trades master of none. Once I even tried amateur porn, but I’ll leave that tale for another day.
Today, however, I’m going to reveal a different juicy secret from my past. It started with me at the midnight shift. He entered like an aristocratic gent, an outdated patriarch from some long dead kingdom. The suit he wore looked too expensive for the dive bar. The coat was too fancy for slumming. His hair, too cool for school. Among his odd get-up, his tie was the most extreme—it held a crazy brocaded pattern upon it, and it looked made of gold. A well-groomed man, a nice Mark (see my first adventure for what “Mark” means). But his ermine fur jacket gave me the creeps.
I’ve had my share of weirdos. It comes with the territory, but this guy was fucking strange. His black-eye stare reminded me of a famished hyena—hungry but not for the sandwich. Maybe for blood. Before I could think more about the man, a voice roared through the club. “Ladies and Studs! Bitches and High Rollerz! Meet the Luscious… Miss… Victoria… Valentine!” Applause ensued.
On cue, I strolled through the crowd with poise and leapt onto the darkened stage. I faded into the shadows as the applause trailed away. I readied myself near the pole, and like every dance, my heart raced. A hush came over the crowd. A moment of silence enveloped the space. Finally, the beat started as an aggressive rap tune shattered the sound system. My body swayed with ease to the hard-hitting bass as I strode to the front. I skipped a few steps to my right. I stopped. Standing before the aristocratic weirdo, I tilted my head as if challenging him to look away. His eyes caught mine.
I danced with nimble moves. Some were athletic. Some resembled a psychosexual ritual; every impulse of my body made his eyes hornier as he responded to my sultry movements. My calm exterior shattered as I became less inhibited, almost bestial. Fingers explored hidden parts of my body like tiny pioneers exploring new lands. Places pioneers shouldn’t go. Like always, the dance liberated me—freeing instinctual parts of myself that I couldn’t reveal in other day-to-day situations. What else can a woman do?
It started slow. First, I shook my hair around like a molting peacock. I smeared my makeup on my cheek with the back of my hand; these guys love besmirched chic. Soon, my silver bra and panties flew into the crowd in nippy motions. Men went wild for my whirling ass and taut legs. They cheered. Whistled. Hooted and hollered. Clapped like it was the best fucking dance ever. Like always, I gave them my all. Gyrating my luscious hips faster to the backbeat, I pressed my beautiful tits together with my hands. Fingers rotated around nipples. One hand came down to conceal my vagina. A rogue finger ground into my gash. I stopped hard to a pause with the music. Waited. The moment hung in the air. I scanned the crowd like a cunning predator, like a pulp barbarian on the prowl. Lust filled their eyes. The music resumed. I danced slowly at first, letting the rhythm build before letting loose. My succulent breasts bounced around with each hip gesticulation. My belly button churned about like a lost ship on a turbulent sea. When I turned sideways, I noticed one guy staring at me with intensity. Hand on crotch, he rubbed himself through his pants. His tiny erection made me feel sexy.
I turned on one heel. My eyes came to rest on the aristocratic weirdo with the ermine. My hands explored my body with a delicate pressure that made his breath sharpen. His eyes never left mine as I moved away from him, jutting my ass out with carnal determination. I twirled around the pole a few times. My sweaty tits left wet marks across the brass. The music reached its apex as I caught his eye again. The moment reached a high point where everything stopped—a timeless moment between two souls that saw something communicative in one another (that’s what I tell myself in these situations). The spell broke when the song stopped. My breath came in quick pants. We both waited, staring into each other’s eyes as my breath evened.
READ MOREChapter 2 – A Private Dancer
I walked toward the stage in front of him, leapt off the platform like a bounding cat, landed a foot away, and without missing a beat, asked with one quick breath, “Did you enjoy yourself, dear?”
He stammered a moment and admitted, “Yes. Yes, I did. Very much so, my lady.”
I leaned toward him and asked, “My lady… Are you some kind of prince?”
He replied, “No. I’m afraid not.”
“Great. So, then you’re just weird. Do you need anything else? Perhaps something more… um… private.” They don’t call it Private Dancer for nothing, I thought as I smiled.
Seeing my enthusiasm, the guy reached into his pocket and yanked out a few hundred-dollar bills. They looked old, like really old. I grabbed them from him, studied the paper for a second, counted, and jammed them into my garter. His jaw dropped when I said it wasn’t enough. He stammered with “but… but…” and I replied, “Pay me or get lost, honey. I don’t care what chateau you own.”
He nodded without skipping a beat and paid me without a word. I led him to the private rooms, a place for discretion. I planned on giving him one hell of a lap dance. We plopped down on the couch, and I finagled my arm around him. I kissed his cheek passionately. All the lovey-dovey was part of the act. In return, his hand roamed my body, touching every inch. It was against club rules, but whatever. Just this once (another thing I tell myself in these situations). I moaned softly. We made chitchat.
“What brought you to the club?” I asked as if I cared.
“You,” he said with mystery.
“Really? How do you know about me?”
He smiled. His teeth were a little too sharp. His face a bit too gaunt. Was this guy a fucking vampire?
He bowed low and said, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Holden D. Westenra, and I own the largest massage parlor in San Francisco, and a few overseas. A German friend told me about you. After seeing your show, I think you’re perfect for my new venture. I offer you an exclusive contract to perform at my new parlor. What do you say?”
“Well, I don’t do massages. And why the fuck are exotic dancers at your parlor?”
He said nothing.
I added, “And what will I have to do?”
“Nothing. Just be irresistible.”
“Stop. Flattery gets customers nowhere.”
He smiled again. “Then, how about honesty? Will that get me somewhere?”
“It might.”
He pulled me closer and confessed, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to fuck you since my German friend described your dancing. He did you a disservice.”
My heart skipped a beat. I played coy, but I love flattery. “Really?”
He leaned forward and stole a deep kiss. He pulled away and replied, “Yes. I adore your body. You have such a great ass, a dancer’s figure. I’d love to bend you over that table and fuck you.”
I laughed and pushed him away a little. He bounded back, kissed me with heat, and then I said, “All you get is a lap dance. House rules.” I straddled him. He slid his hands between my legs and touched me there. I moaned. I ground my beetle’s bonnet against his cock, relishing in its hardness.
“Fuck yes,” he murmured.
I rubbed my breasts against his face. Salty sweat from the dance beaded on his lips. He licked it off. The strange man grabbed my tits with both hands and squeezed them hard. The more he squeezed, the more I squealed. It felt good. My nipples hardened. I rubbed my crotch against his bulge, but I didn’t fuck him. Instead, I got off by watching us in the wall mirror. I wished someone else could witness our capriciousness. I’d lose my job, but then again, maybe not. Maybe it’s okay to have sex with customers when you’re an exotic dancer. After all, they pay for it, right?
I continued grinding my crotch against him. He reached out and fondled my voluptuous tits. I pushed his hands away and placed them back where they belonged. I leaned forward and sucked one of his fingers into my mouth. His cock jamming between my legs was heavenly. I wanted to ride him. Don’t you dare fuck him, Vic.
Chapter 3 – Don’t Tell A Soul
He moved down and kissed me all over my chest and stomach. His tongue licked my belly button as he went lower and lower. His hot breath neared my pussy. I protested, but my objections were halfhearted. I wanted him too. With assertiveness, like he had done it a thousand times before, a thousand years before, he spread my legs apart and jammed his large tongue deep inside me. I squealed. His skill was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I yanked his head forward, driving his tongue deeper inside, hitting my beetle’s bonnet. I came instantly, but he kept licking until a second tiny orgasm overcame me.
He retreated and whispered, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”
He looked down at my exposed pussy, the shaved skin covered in juices and saliva.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, like he was referring to a sports car or a priceless sculpture.
I smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
He grabbed my hips and pushed me back until I was lying on the couch. He spread my legs apart and rubbed my clit with his finger.
“Oh god. Yes…” I purred.
“Does that feel good?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He leaned over me and kissed me. He whispered, “Do you want it?”
“Yes. I do,” I answered.
He put two fingers inside me. Then he slid them in and out. Juices glazed his digits as my body shook. I was close to climaxing again already.
“Are you ready to come again?” he whispered.
“Yes…” I whimpered.
“Come for me,” he said.
I held back. Not yet. Instead… I’m going to suck your dick. I unzipped his pants in haste. I sat up straight, seized his cock with my free hand, and stroked it while he continued pleasuring me with his wet fingers.
I stopped when I felt him get close.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
“Because you didn’t say please,” I replied playfully.
He frowned. “But you wanted to come.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. You need to ask me before you make me come.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“Then I’ll just have to teach you how to be polite before I suck that massive thingamajig. It is massive, right?”
He winked. His voice dropped a register as he whispered into my ear, “Do you know how to handle a cock like this? Many women through the years have pleasured me. Can you do better?”
I snickered. You don’t know the half of it, pal. I’ve done this with countless other men. Anyway, I replied, “I’ve been sucking cock since before you could drive, buddy.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. But I never drive.”
Chapter 4 – Vamp Me
He placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me onto my knees next to the couch. His stiff rod grazed against my hot cheek as I leaned forward to take his big prick into my mouth. His piston slid around inside my warm and wet hole. He groaned as I bobbed my head up and down. His mutterings came… Oh. Oh. Oh, Christ. Then he grabbed my hair and fucked my face. Oh, that’s it. Take it. This made me gag, but I didn’t stop. I slurped my way to his heart, jack hammering his meat with one hand and slurping at the head with my mouth. He continued on… Do it. Take it. Suck me. Oh, god. Once in a while, I pulled away and slid my tongue along the shaft’s length, lathered his balls, and then sank my head back down, swallowing his rod to the hilt. I sucked many times. Up and down, slurping away. Ah, I’m close. Don’t stop. That’s it. Oh… Oh… Oh, man. Keep going. I’m going to come. He pulled out suddenly and shot his load in massive spurts all over my tits. His semen dripped down my stomach and my thighs in rivulets.
But I wasn’t done. I stood and turned around. I bent over, placed my hands on the couch to steady myself, and jutted my ass in the air.
He moved behind me. We both looked around to make sure we weren’t discovered. He placed his sloppy cock against my tight ass.
“Please, fuck me there. Stick it in,” I breathed to him.
He said nothing, but his cock pushed against my asshole. Spit hit my ass crack. He swirled the head around. Pushed. It hurt, but it wasn’t too bad. He spit again. Jammed it inside me more. After a few seconds, his flesh fit. His pelvis pressed against my ass cheeks.
“Go slow,” I murmured.
He started. My impromptu lover thrust his cock in and out of my ass in a mind-numbing rhythm. Delirium crept into my mind. Oh, yeah. That’s what I wanted.
I leaned my head back and whispered, “Yes, that’s it… Harder. Keep fucking me… Right there.”
After a couple more thrusts, he moaned louder. I reached between us and grabbed his balls. I squeezed them. It turned him on and he barreled into me harder. My asshole gripped his cock as his meat slid in and out of me.
“I’m going to come again!” he bellowed.
I quieted him and mumbled, “Not yet.” I pulled his cock from my ass.
He protested, “Wait, what are you… Put it back inside.”
I did as he asked. He grabbed onto my hips, made a grunt, and then pounded me senseless. Over and over, his thrusts destroyed me.
“Faster… Harder…” I begged until I commanded, “Do it. Do it. Do it… Do it.”
He complied. His breathing became heavier. He fucked me crueler with animalistic force, like a fucking beast. I half expected him to sink his sharp teeth into my neck. Who cares if you’re a vampire? Just fuck me. Then, the sexy creep slammed into me again and again. His meat slid in and out of my ass, gliding because of the spittle. Flesh hit flesh. Wet noises filled the small room with rapidity. God, I hope we’re not discovered. The lap dance time was almost up.
He pounded away, oblivious to any danger. His cock swelled, filling my ass.
“Oh, shit… I’m coming!” he shouted as his words became a roar.
His cock exploded deep inside me. Rope after rope of gooey jets blew inside my anal abyss. I moaned. More semen spewed into me as his hot load filled my ass. Molten liquid ran from my hole as his cock softened and slipped out. I turned around and looked at him.
“Wow,” he mumbled. “That was incredible.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked in a bored voice.
“Yes. I did. Thank you. Would you like some more?”
“No, I don’t have time. The shift is almost over.” I tossed the money on his knee and added, “I don’t fuck for money. That was on the house.”
“Okay. What about that massage opportunity?” he asked as he zipped up his pants.
I gathered my things as semen dribbled down my legs. I heard someone calling my name from down the hall. I turned back to him and exclaimed, “I don’t do massage. It’s messy.” And then sprinted from the room, thankful the weird guy didn’t “vamp” me.
I considered his empty black eyes.
Maybe next time.
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